


The One Where Everyone’s a Hypocrite

by storyranger



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Baron likes Charlotte, Blackmail, Elise is so done with your shit, Extreme Rules 2017, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Hypocrisy, M/M, Misogyny, Money in the Bank 2017, Multi, Revenge, Vandalism, Vomit, asshole!kevin, fake break-up, hangovers, slow-burn, the ambreigns is coming i promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2018-12-21 22:57:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11954445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storyranger/pseuds/storyranger
Summary: Cass blames Triple H. Roman blames Braun. Bayley blames Alexa. Becky blames James Ellsworth. Sami blames Kevin. Dean blames Seth.Seth blames Seth.Here we go again...





	1. Hellfire

**Author's Note:**

> «text» means someone is speaking in French.  
> This chapter is pretty heavy on the Smackdown crew. I’d apologize, but James Ellsworth hasn’t yet so neither will I.

_June 5 th, 2017_

_Baltimore, Maryland_

Let’s play a game.

A game of pretend.

Let’s pretend Extreme Rules never happened. Let’s pretend that instead of a Pay Per View, it was just a regular Sunday night. Finn and Bayley splurged on expensive ice cream, made out, and fell asleep in front of _Hairspray_. Roman and Dean and Seth went out for dinner before Seth quietly split to go play videogames so those two could have some alone time. Cass helped Enzo apply that toner thing bleached hair needs sometimes. Quiet, domestic moments; a chance to recharge before the road to Summerslam hit them.

Hold onto that thought.

It’s nice, isn’t it?

 

That’s not what happened. What happened was a painful mess from start to finish, beginning with a title loss and ending with a TKO. Dean, still reeling, has no real time to process before he must do his best to look after the battered Roman and Seth, who’ve both reaggravated old injuries. Bayley, bruised and humiliated, doesn’t have a chance to grieve her loss because Finn’s lying flat on his back in the center of the ring, barely aware of his surroundings after being put to sleep by Samoa Joe.

In the end, they push the beds together in the larger room and pool their resources, Bayley and Dean doing their best to keep ice and painkillers and tape and snacks coming as the others patch themselves up. The five of them fall asleep in a tangle of limbs and emotions, the latter of which will take weeks to comb through. It’s June 4th. The summer’s barely begun.

And it’s about to get a whole lot worse.

 

***

 

_June 18, 2017_

_St. Louis, Missouri_

Elise wasn’t embarrassed her response to end of the first ever women’s Money in the Bank Ladder Match was to immediately burst into tears. It’d been a long week, she’d just changed prescriptions, and she’d slept maybe four hours last night because a restless Sami kept kicking her shins. (The problem with Sami crashing with Elise to avoid room sharing with Kevin was that so far management hadn’t worked out there’s a problem, and has continued to assign him with Kevin. 95% of the time Elise doesn’t mind. The other 5% is the night before a PPV.)

She was, however, pissed as hell that Kevin saw her and decided he needed to comment on it.

_«Aww, the little girl is crying»_ Kevin says in French, smarmy as can be.

Elise responds by backhanding him so hard across the mouth that her knuckles split against his teeth.

The rest of the backstage crowd, ignorant to what Kevin said, freeze and watch as Elise, hand now gushing an improbable amount of blood, grabs a handful of the still-reeling Kevin’s shirt and drags him so he’s almost nose-to-nose with her.

“For _once_. For once in the history of this goddamned company, it wasn’t about you. It wasn’t about the cis-guy, it was about us, about everyone who struggled in a world that sees penis as the default and managed to make something of themselves in spite of it. For once, we were gonna have something the boys did, and it wasn’t a watered-down, nerf’ed-to-hell _pink_ version, it was every bit as hard and as important. But nah, they couldn’t pull the trigger and let it just _be about us_ , now, could they? So yeah, I’m fucking crying. But no. You don’t get to comment on it. Get it through your thick skull, Owens. This is _not_ about you.”

Elise releases her grip on Kevin’s shirt. There’s a dark spot left behind that’s definitely blood. Elise almost regrets it’s not bigger. It would have freaked him out that much more. As it is, KO is eyeing her like she’s a feral tiger about to bite him.

_Good._

“Anyone else care to comment?” Elise asks the room, turning her back on Kevin and scanning from side to side, meeting everyone’s shocked gazes with cold defiance. With the freshly shaved hair, the still-healing tattoo, and her right hand covered in crusting blood, she looks more animal then human. Like a Viking displaced in time.

“Didn’t think so.” She stalks out of the room, but the tension remains. A few people go back to stretching or playing on their phones, but most are still staring at Kevin, waiting for him to speak.

_«The fuck are you looking at»_ at he spits, savagely, and rips his shirt off, hurling it at no one in particular. It lands near Tyler Breeze, who yelps and jumps away like it’s infected. Kevin stalks out of the room, almost slamming into Baron as he goes.

_«Get your girlfriend in line, asshole»_ Kevin barks, shoving him out of the way. Normally Baron would take this as an invitation to scrap, but tonight is too important to risk brawling before they get into the arena.

At the sight of Corbin, everyone awkwardly resumes their conversations, voices far too loud and avoiding eye contact like the plague. Just how Baron likes it.

He’d stay and make them uncomfortable, but he needs to warm up and there’s not enough space here.

“You punch a fucking wall or something?” comes a voice from down the corridor, and Baron isn’t one to eavesdrop, but they’re also in his way. He glances cautiously around the corner, spotting Elise and Chief Dodgson in the middle of the hallway. Neither looks happy.

“May as well have, for all the good it did. Look, I’m useless to you right now. I’ll clock out so you stop wasting your money.”

“Bullshit.”

“What, you’d rather fire me? Fine. But you’re not getting your shirt back.”

“I don’t want your fucking shirt. I want my best people on this PPV shift, and you are one of my best people. Honestly Thompson, this isn’t like you.”

“I’m doing the responsible thing and telling you I’m professionally compromised right now.”

“Why, because your friend lost?”

Baron can feel the air leave the room.

“… If you think that’s what this is about, sir, then maybe you don’t need to bother firing me.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to imply… I don’t think you’re the type to let personal feelings impact your work.”

“I expected this from Triple H. Not from Shane. Kids watch this show, you know? _Fucking kids_. What kind of a message is this sending them about their potential?”

“I can promise you, Shane didn’t plan this.”

“It’s still his show. He has to own what happens on it.”

“And he’s planning to. At least, if Daniel Bryan’s tweets are anything to go by. Don’t worry about clocking out. Change your clothes but keep your radio on in case there’s an emergency. And for god’s sake do something about that hand.”

“I hit Owens.”

“I see.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“It was unprofessional.”

“This entire damn night has been unprofessional, Thompson. I’d be a hypocrite to punish you for punching a _sonofabitch_. ‘Specially when I ain’t in the habit of punishing you, ever.”

“I don’t want special treatment, sir.”

“But you are special. So special treatment you shall have. Now, go get cleaned up.”

“Yes, sir.”

Baron waits until Dodgson’s walked away before rounding the corner. He can hear running water from the room Shinsuke had claimed for their bags and shit earlier. It’s as good a place as any to stretch.

“You decent?” he asks, pausing by the slightly opened door.

“Yeah, get in here and patch me up.”

Baron rolls his eyes at her as he enters, grabbing a first aid kit and sitting down on the couch. Elise folds her legs under her beside him and stretches out her hand.

“You can punch better than this,” Baron comments, smearing the cuts with antiseptic. He doesn’t say it as a criticism, just a statement of fact.

“I didn’t punch him. I backhanded him and his teeth got in the way. Punches are for adults.”

“I walked in after you left and he yelled at me in French.”

She cocks her head. “What’d he say?”

Baron starts wrapping gauze around her hand and repeats it as closely as he can manage.

“…make your woman behave, is my best guess.”

They both burst out laughing.

“Kevin Owens thinks we’re…” Baron can’t even finish the statement, he’s laughing too hard.

“To be fair, has he ever seen you talk to another human besides me?”

“Let’s not be fair to Kevin, we hate that motherfucker.”

Elise snorts at that and then recovers herself enough to tell him, “Just putting this out there, you have a golden opportunity to hit on Charlotte tonight.”

Baron’s entire demeanour changes, muscles tensed and expression shocked.

“You fucking kidding me?”

“C’mon, Baron. She just got cheated out of making history. She could probably use a strapping young man to comfort her.”

“Since when are you this fucking _mercenary_?”

“Since when do you get nervous over asking a girl out? You had like, five chances in Costa Rica and you choked every time.”

“The fuck do you know about my sex life? We’ve been friends since what, Wrestlemania?”

“Fair. You just don’t seem like you’d care that much about this shit.”

“I don’t. Usually.” Baron starts chewing his lip.

Elise becomes gleeful. “You _like_ her.”

“She’s got… angles. But she’s also... Nia was all angles, and it was okay but it wasn’t… fuck, this is _stupid_.”

“Hey. No judgement here. You’re allowed to fuck people who aren’t right for you.”

“You’re also allowed to fuck people, period.”

Elise shakes her head. “Shut up. This isn’t about me.”

“I’m supposed to be taking advice from you when you can’t even use your words to someone who clearly likes you.”

“… does not.”

“He was practically spooning you at the last movie night. He bought you fucking _jewellery_ in Costa Rica,” Baron presses.

“Not everyone is allergic to other people touching them, Corbin.”

“ _Jewellery_.”

“That was worth like, 15 bucks. 15 bucks _Canadian_ ,” she adds for emphasis.

Baron shakes his head in mock anger. “Motherfucking cheapskate. Pirate bear I bought you was worth 3 times that.”

Elise is starting to lose her patience. “Godric is very happy to have a permanent home. Can we get back on topic?”

“Why are you dodging this?” Baron presses.

“Because I don’t wanna be the slut who dates the talent!” she snaps.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, this ain’t exactly Hollywood. Don’t think that’s a big deal.”

“It is to me.”

Baron groans internally. He wasn’t really prepared to do emotional vulnerability tonight, but he brought this upon himself. Admitting his crush was a dumb mistake, fuelled by sunshine and too much free rum, but deflecting from his crush by pushing her way too far about hers? Just straight up asking for trouble.

Elise continues, her voice a low mumble. “It’s just… I got hired to be objective, you know? I didn’t even _like_ wrestling, when they hired me.”

“You managed to stay neutral when Sami and I were feuding. Pretty sure you could handle being professional about this.”

“You need endless black shirts with wolves on them, I need cuddles. Sami provides cuddles. That’s it. You should ask her out.”

“You’re in denial, Thomson.”

“Charlotte can be an ice queen, but if Becky’s this close with her she’s probably super sweet sometimes too. What’s the worst that can happen?”

The subject change isn’t even subtle, but he relents and goes with it. “Not tonight.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll look like an asshole who’s trying to take advantage.”

A slow grin spreads across Elise’s face. “You _like_ her.”

“Shut up.”

“Baron likes Charlotte. Baron likes-”

Baron puts her in a loose headlock, and she’s still laughing but she stops teasing him.

“Want me to leave so you can get yourself pumped up?”

Baron shrugs. “As long as you’re quiet, it doesn’t matter.”

“Cool. If the radio goes off, shake me,” she orders, and stretches out on the couch. She’s asleep before Baron has a chance to answer.

 

“Have you seen-” begins Sami, bursting into the room just as Baron’s finally getting into the zone. He glares at the breathless ginger, pulling out an earbud and pointing to the prone form on the couch.

“She really hit Kevin.”

“Yep.”

“That’s m- _our_ girl.” He caught himself quickly, but not quick enough.

Baron doesn’t call him on it. He has a ladder match to win tonight. “Shoo, Zayn. I need quiet.”

“But-”

“ _Out._ ”

 

That look on Sami’s face wasn’t because Corbin won. Okay, it was a _little_ ; he’d have preferred Shin to get the briefcase, but at least they kept it out of the hands of Evil Incarnate and Racist!Thing 1 and Thing 2. It was more that Sami had really, really put his heart and soul into winning, and to come so close and miss was a crushing blow. That the rest of the night had been such a total shit-show didn’t help either. Of course, his expression just _had_ to be the closing shot of the PPV, immediately gif’ed and sent to him by Dean with a lame joke.

(He followed it up with a genuinely concerned text, and Roman and Finn jumped straight to comfort, so the sting was gone almost before it hit.)

Sami stumbles to the back, accepting an icepack someone shoved his way and eventually making it to their dressing room. Becky is sitting on the floor, music audible through her headphones, and Charlotte is pacing the dressing room, occasionally pausing to kick or punch the wall. Elise is miraculously still asleep despite the racket. Sami doesn’t say anything, just begins shoving his things into his duffle like the clothing has personally offended him.

When Shinsuke arrives, the poor bloke wakes Elise by accidentally sitting on her. Baron and Renee are close on Shin’s heels; belongings collected, they all pile into the van, faces stormy. Even Baron, ostensibly tonight’s victor, can’t fully shake the feeling of _wrongness_. Normally there’s at least a _conversation_ about who gets to drive; tonight, when Baron goes to get in, that’s the only spot left. He stows his contract briefcase in the back and sits down heavily in the driver’s seat, every joint and sinew creaking. The keys are in the ignition. Shinsuke is in the passenger seat, looking out the window like the parking lot is the most interesting landscape in America.

“Congrats, Corbin,” Sami offers, voice tired, and Baron grunts in thanks. He turns the key and starts the engine, but he doesn’t put it in drive just yet. The others stare at him, confused by the pause.

“Anyone who’s not in for a little mayhem tonight, now’s your chance to get out.” Baron glances back at them through the rearview mirror. He’s met with varying shades of curiosity and excitement, but the relevant point is that no one makes any move to protest or to leave.

“Fair warned. Sami, find us a grocery store that’s still open. Renee, work your contacts. Find out what make and model Ellesworth’s car is.”

“On it,” confirms Sami, and Renee’s fingers are already flying.

“Elise, how much alcohol we got?”

“If you’re the DD?”

Baron nods.

“More than enough.”

“Alright. Last chance to bail.” No one moves. Baron grins and revs the engine. “Decepticons, roll out!”

 

They end up at a 24-hour Walmart, and split up to gather supplies.

“Are we really gonna egg James Ellesworth’s car?” Becky asks, as she and Charlotte stack cartons of eggs into their basket.

“What, you chickening out on us, Becks?”

“No way! Just, it seems… juvenile.”

Charlotte sighs. “It is, a little. But it’s also revenge that won’t get us arrested. Compromise. That thing you keep preaching to me, remember?”

“It won’t fix things.”

“No. But Shane and Daniel will. And if they don’t, I’ll kick their asses.”

“ _We’ll_ kick their asses,” Becky corrects her. Charlotte sticks her tongue out as Becky places the last carton and continues, “Well, if we’re really doing this, we need something with a little more staying power.”

“What do you have in mind?”

Becky reaches over and rubs her thumb across Charlotte’s cheek. She pulls her hand back and waves it in front of Charlotte’s face; her fingers are now coated in glitter.

“Saw a mega bottle back in the crafting aisle.”

“Becks, you’re an evil genius.”

“Chaotic neutral, at best.”

“I have no idea what you just said, but we have 5 minutes before the van leaves without us so let’s keep moving.”

“Char, Corbin’s not _actually_ going to leave without us.”

“He’d better. Man who doesn’t keep his word’s no man at all.”

 

Renee’s progressed to phone calls, and hopped out a few minutes back to “protect her source.” This leaves Baron and Shinsuke alone in the van, the atmosphere getting more and more awkward as the seconds tick by.

It’s Shinsuke who breaks the silence. “You ambush me.”

“Yeah. I do that. Sorry.”

“No honour in it.”

Baron snorts. “Honour and me ain’t exactly on the best of terms.”

Shinsuke gives him a long, hard look. “Sami likes you. I like Sami. So I stand you, for now. But I do not think I like you, Ba-ron Cor-bin.”

“That’s probably smart.”  
Elise and Sami choose that moment to hop back in, snickering at some private joke. They’re loaded down with bags upon bags of snacks and sodas.

“You buy the whole fucking store?” Baron asks, raising an eyebrow.

“This is what happens when you’re planning vandalism with seven people and each of them has a different favourite flavour,” Elise tosses back.

“And we forgot to ask whether people wanted chase…” Sami adds, gesturing to the three bags of soda.

“Chase is for nerds,” Renee declares, swinging gracefully back into her seat.

Sami frowns. “Or people who don’t want hangovers tomorrow.”

“Relax, Zayn. I’m joking. But seriously, mixed drinks can cause worse hangovers. Just saying.”

“Dream crusher.”

“Truth-bringer. Also I got the deets on Ellsworth’s wheels.”

Baron taps the wheel, impatient. The countdown clock on his phone has hit the red.

The van door bursts open. “You weren’t really going to leave without your eggs?” Becky crows, sliding next to Renee. Charlotte is stacking the eggs into the trunk and glances up at the rear-view mirror, expression carefully neutral.

“Guess we’ll never know,” he grunts with a shrug. He tries not to dwell on the feeling in his stomach when Charlotte flashes him a grin.

 

Most of the group is already a few shots deep when they get back to the hotel parking lot. They needn’t have worried about which car is Ellsworth’s. His backseat is full of his own merch. Evidently the shirts with his face on them are not selling as well as corporate would have hoped; sometimes, when that happened, they’d give a bunch of the surplus to the person and order them to try and sell it themselves. Charlotte hands out the cartoons of eggs while the rest pass around the bottle of whisky.

“Do we glitter-bomb it before or after we egg it?” Becky ponders aloud.

“Gonna be gross to try and touch to door after we egg it,” Renee points out practically.

“Anyone here know how to break into a car?” Sami asks, trying his best not to direct the question at anyone in particular.

“Quit being delicate, Zayn. We all know I’m the most delinquent one here.” Baron tugs a bobby pin from Renee’s hair, eliciting a muffled yelp of surprise, then leans down against the car door and bites his lip. It takes him a few minutes, but he finally unclenches his jaw and stands up with a grin. “Almost forgot how to do it for a second.”

Shinsuke is eyeing him with disapproval, but Charlotte’s smiling at him again.

_Don’t say anything stupid don’t say anything stupid don’t say anything stupid-_

“Your Highness,” he blurts out, sweeping the door open and bowing theatrically. The gesture has the added bonus of obscuring his face from view, as it’s become entirely too flushed for comfort.

Unfortunately, also it means he misses another radiant smile from Charlotte as she asks, “Fire, would you do the honours?”

 Becky begins to dramatically uncap the glitter bottle. “My pleasure, Queen. But only if you throw the first egg.”

 

***

 

It isn’t until after Elise has hauled Sami’s drunk ass back to her hotel room and nagged him to take his shoes off that she finally undoes Baron’s surprisingly neat bandaging job to survey the damage.

Sami’s eyes go wide. “You really hit Kevin,” he says reverently.

“I sure hope so. This bruise is gonna take a week to heal at least.”

He leans his head on her shoulder, grabbing her hands like he done every time she tried to scratch the tattoo. “I could kiss you, I’m so proud.”

Maybe it’s just the stress of the day or the endorphins from the bruise. Maybe she’s proving a point to Baron, or herself, or both. The reason doesn’t really matter.

She decides to call his bluff.

“Why don’t you, then?”

“What?”

“I said, why don’t you kiss me?”

“You’re serious?”

“Aren’t I usually serious?”

Sami pulls back, and she’s flooded with regret. _You read too much into this. Baron was full of shit. Kiss the cuddling privileges goodbye, Thomson._

“Because… because I’m drunk. Really drunk. And you’re not and I’m not going to remember any of this tomorrow and you will and…”

The tension leaves her body in a huge rush. “Fair.”

“Are you upset?” worries Sami, searching her face for signs of anger.

“No. You’re a ray of goddamned sunshine, Sami. I can’t get mad at you.”

“Okay.” Sami goes quiet, running worrying fingers over the welts the ladder left on his arms.

“You’ll get your chance at that title, Sami. I know you. Once you set your mind to something, hell itself can’t stop you.”

“Contract would have made it easier,” Sami mumbles, and slumps over. His head lands in her lap, and out of habit she begins combing gently through the close cropped hair.

“You seem to have a penchant for the hard way.”

“Penchant?” he slurs against her shin, and Elise pats the side of his face indulgently.

“Liking. Fondness. Habit of choosing. You don’t seem to like the easy way much, if past behavior is taken as a predictor of future results.”

“Not true!”

“Why didn’t you let Mick Foley throw in the towel when Strowman had almost killed you?”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Why’d you come to Smackdown when you knew Kevin Owens had already signed here?”

“Doesn’t count either.”

“Why didn’t you kiss me while you had the plausible deniability of whisky?”

Sami grunts something inaudible.

“While I have you drunk and compromised, you _are so_ a coffee hipster.”

“Am not!” Sami screeches, indignant.

“Sami, you were holding those coffee beans like a fucking newborn puppy.”

“I like coffee!”

“And obscure ska _and_ archaic hats.”

“So do lots of people!”

“Yeah. Lots of _hipsters_.”

Sami pulls himself out of his alcoholic stupor to retort, “Hipsters are mostly white kids with too much time on their hands who gentrify neighborhoods and appropriate marginalized cultures in the most random, illogical ways. I am an _eccentric_. There’s a difference.”

“If I hadn’t been there to watch you drink them, I’d never believe the amount of shots you did tonight.”

“Believe it,” Sami groans, beginning to slur again. “Was a mistake.” He curls tightly in on himself, and Elise murmurs soothingly, rubbing his back.

“Let me get you some water, okay?”

“Nooooooo, don’t leave me alone while I die,” he whines, and against her better judgement she relents.

“Don’t come crying to me when you have a hangover tomorrow,” she mutters, but they both know she doesn’t mean it.

“Promise,” he agrees, and they both know he doesn’t mean it either.

 

***

 

_June 19, 2017_

_St. Louis, Missouri_

The gross, wet sound of someone retching wakes Elise early the next morning. She stumbles to the bathroom door, scrubbing sleep from her eyes.

“Can I come in?” she asks, knocking. Sami moans in response and she takes that as a yes, entering quietly and kneeling down next to him. “It’s okay, Champ. I got you.”

“M’fine. Go back to bed.”

It’s a tempting offer, but she wouldn’t feel right accepting.

“Nah. Can’t ignore a drunk person. It’s in the Security Guard’s Sworn Oath.”

“That’s not a real thing,” Sami says, before he’s hit with another round of nausea and vomits again.

Elise sits down heavily, knee crunching. “No, you’ve caught me,” she admits, rubbing his back. “I just care about you.”

“Why am I this hungover?”

“Because you haven’t gotten drunk since Eid.”

“Why did I get this drunk?”

“You lost the ladder match.”

“No, I lose matches all the time. That can’t be why.” He sits back for a minute, breathing heavily. “Who won the women’s match?”

“James Ellsworth.”

“There it is-” he’s cut off by another wave of puke. The night begins to come back to him in bits and pieces.

“Did we glitter bomb his car?”

She smiles. “Yeah. That was Becky’s idea.”

“Did you punch Kevin Owens?”

She shrugs. “Essentially.”

_Did you ask me to kiss you?_

“Did I do anything stupid?”

“Nah. You were fine. Renee and Becky got way more drunk then you.”

“Okay.” He relaxes back against her, not caring how dumb they must look sprawled out like this on the cold tile floor.

“It felt a bit like Costa Rica again. The gang all together, bonding over injustice. And this time Shinsuke was actually there instead of going off to surf by himself all the time.”

“Costa Rica was fun.”

“How you feeling?”

He groans a little in response.

“That great, huh?”

“I’m sorry,” he says weakly.

“It’s okay, creampuff. I’ve got you.”

 

***

 

_June 19, 2017_

_Evansville, Illinois_

They’re standing backstage, about to do their entrance for what could be the final time. Enzo seems as excited as ever, but Cass’s stomach is in knots.

“I can’t do this, ’Zo.”

“’Course ya’ can. I’ll be right there with ya’.”

“They’re gonna hate me.”

Enzo grabs Cass’s hand and squeezes tight. “I love you Cass. Fuck the fans. Fuck everyone and anyone else that tries to tell ya you’re the villan after tonight. Colin Cassady, I love you and I’m gonna be beside ya every step of the way.”

“’Zo…” Cass tries to verbalize what he’s feeling, but the words won’t come. Instead, he bends down and gives Enzo a brief, fierce kiss. When it’s over he presses his forehead to Enzo’s, breathing heavily.

“How you doin’?”

“Better,” Cass assures him, and their music hits. Enzo jumps up and plants a small kiss on his lips before bounding out onto the ramp.

Cass closes his eyes, runs through the plan one more time in his head, and takes a deep breath.

_Ready or not, here it comes._


	2. Update: Hiatus/Burnout/Rambling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not the chapter I wanted to post.

Hey.

So, it's been almost a year since I updated this fic. And when I began this fanfic thing again after taking an 8 year break, I told myself we weren't going to post fics unless they were complete. I said we were never gonna put things on hiatus. I said a lot of things, but then I got caught up in the thrill of instant gratification and got less disciplined about finishing the whole work before giving you the next piece of the story and that's on me. I'm sorry about that.

One thing after the other just kept happening to delay the next chapter of this particular fic. From Enzo and then Cass being revealed to be garbage humans and their subsequent releases requiring me to toss the parts I had completed, to my school work taking priority while I worked on my original play (which I won the Saxton Prize for, so that's something at least), to Dean's injury and then Sami being out too and then Charlotte and Becky breaking up and Kevin disappearing to have double knee surgery.

And then we come to today, with Roman/Joe announcing he's leaving to battle leukemia again. I try make a very clear distinction in my work between the characters and not the performers, but right now I can't separate the two. And for as long as it takes for me to be able to do that again, this story's on hold. In the meantime, expect more tales of the cruiserweights, and New Japan, and hey I just posted a Loki fic on my second pseud that people seem to be enjoying, maybe you'd like it too? 

So far 2018 has taught me that the universe is cruel and apathetic, but people don't have to be. Be excellent to each other.

**Author's Note:**

> This was mildly cathartic, not gonna lie.  
> Next chapter will have a heavier focus on Roman/Dean, as well as Seth and Dean's on-camera shenanigans.


End file.
